


Why Do You Treat Me Like You Do?

by sheep



Series: Domestic Circus [2]
Category: Marvel (Movies), The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Domestic, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-22
Updated: 2012-01-22
Packaged: 2017-10-29 22:20:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/324788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sheep/pseuds/sheep
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I accidently turned this into a series, sequel to Ne Me Quitte Pas.</p><p>Phil likes coming home to surprises, especially when they are pleasant ones.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Why Do You Treat Me Like You Do?

**Author's Note:**

> I suggest reading Ne Me Quitte Pas first. This is set one week afterwards. Title from the Donovan song mentioned briefly in the story and available for download [here](http://www.mediafire.com/?d4u518z1ivuj2n5)(since youtube failed)

It took Phil seconds from when he opened the door to when he was kicking off his shoes and removing his jacket to realize the apartment smelled amazing. Home cooking was something, until recently, he hadn't experienced since before he enlisted. It took him one second more to remember that if Clint had made them dinner, then Phil was going to have to spend at least an hour cleaning up the mess afterwards.

The half of him that wanted to find out what was for dinner warred with the half that didn't want to see his future chore.

“What no honey, I'm home?” Clint snarked from the kitchen, accompanied by the clank of a pot lid being disposed of unceremoniously.

“You know that would make you my wife.” Phil replied, keeping his voice bland, the way he had to at work. He hung up his jacket, took one last steadying breath, and turned the corner. He made it two steps closer to the kitchen and stopped dead in his tracks.

Clint was standing in front of the stove, dish towel over his shoulder, jeans low on his hips as they swayed to the music. Soft strains of Phil's Donovan album. That was a sight that Phil could appreciate but what was truly remarkable was how clean the kitchen was, with the exception of the cutting board and area around the coffee machine.

“Either Steve's finally taught you how to clean up after yourself or I need to be informing S.H.I.E.L.D that you've been compromised by a pod person, doppelganger, or impersonator.” Phil sat down at the island, corner of his mouth coming up into an almost invisible smirk as Clint turned to look at him.

Clint just tilted his head, eyebrow cocked questioningly. Phil waved his hand, gesturing at the mostly clean counter tops, which made Clint bark out a laugh and roll his eyes at the same time, something Phil thought only teenage girls were capable of.

“You jerk, see if you get any of Sandor's Goulash. Here I am, slaving away to make you dinner and you just insult my methods.” Clint removed the dish towel from his shoulder and threw it onto the counter.

“I would never insult your methods, not if they are evolving into this.” Phil assured, loosening his tie as he slipped off the stool and wandered over to the stove top. “May I?” He asked, gesturing to the pot.

“Sure, it's the last thing I'll ever cook for you, savour this moment.” Clint grumped but Phil could see the smile that the younger man was trying to suppress.

Phil leaned over the pot, letting the heat caress his face before pulling the spoon out of it and taking a tentative taste. “This is good. Goulash? I think the army had a goulash MRE, never drew the straw short enough to eat it though.” Clint was standing close to him, their bodies not quite touching. Phil turned his head and leaned in for a quick kiss that tasted like coffee.

“Sandor would be so sad to hear that. Not that you've never had it, that your military would dare to call an MRE goulash.” Clint nodded solemnly before smiling small again and going in for their second kiss, making it longer and a bit filthier.

“Well I won't tell him if you won't.” Phil promised against Clint's lips before putting some space between them again. “Please tell me it's almost done. I've been in meetings all day.”

“I'll do you one better; it's ready now. Pass me the bowls, will you?” Clint asked, producing a ladle from somewhere.

Within a minute, Phil was sitting at their kitchen island with dinner, chunks of bread from the bakery a block away and his favourite type of beer. Clint was sitting next to him, the shoulders close enough to occasionally brush.

“Send my regards to Sandor.” Phil said after a few bites, otherwise content in their comfortable silence.

“He was our Hungarian Strong Man. Last week, after...” Clint trailed, off, ducking his head in an embarrassment that Phil didn't understand before continuing, “it made me think of some of the others. One pot cooking was all that was really possible and the only thing Sandor could make was his mother's Goulash. It's a family recipe that I'm not even supposed to have.” Clint smirked with pride.

“How did you manage that one?” Phil asked, indulging the archer.

“I won it in a bet. He told me I couldn't make this one shot.”

“I don't know how you keep conning people into that bet.”

“That's how I got you to go out on a date with me. You can't judge.” Clint beamed smugly, bumping his shoulder against Phil's.

“I knew you would, I just thought I'd help inflate your ego into an even bigger monster.” Phil deadpanned, spooning another bite into his mouth.

“Sure, I think you are just like Sandor. You wanted to give me what I wanted, you just didn't want it to look like the favouritism it actually was.”

“There goes that ego again. It's close to being an actual threat for the Avengers to face.”

“Ha. Ha. I'm secure in the knowledge that you love me. Just like Sandor. Sweet gentle Sandor.” Clint sighed, dramatically, while Phil studiously didn't acknowledge him. “Strong, silent Sandor.”

“Are you about finished?” Phil asked, ignoring the small stab of jealousy.

“Never.” Clint smirked, getting up to grab seconds. He placed his bowl down as he got back around to the other side of the island but instead of sitting down, he hugged Phil from behind, and then in a low voice spoke directly into Phil's ear, making Phil's spine stiffen “I'm just teasing.” Clint nipped at the edge of Phil's ear before sitting back down, even closer than last time, their knees firmly pressed together.

Clint looked down at his bowl and then cheekily added,“Besides, even though Sandor had appreciated my attempt to grow a beard, he preferred them fuller, and not on men.”


End file.
